


Through the Wall

by Thetrustytaco



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Fluff, M/M, Music, Romantic Fluff, piano playing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 07:06:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29328255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thetrustytaco/pseuds/Thetrustytaco
Summary: David's apartment gains a neighbor that plays piano every night around 10pm. David starts requesting songs, to which his neighbor obliges. One day, a phone number is left for all future official requests.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 42
Kudos: 231
Collections: Numerous OTPS Infinite Fandoms





	Through the Wall

**Author's Note:**

> I _definitely_ wrote this based off a TikTok I saw, so not an original idea, but definitely written in the heat of the moment.
> 
> Un-beta'd so any typos/general weirdness, I 100% own. Hope you enjoy :)

It's 10:30pm on a Saturday when David first hears it.

At first, he thinks someone has their tv or music system up loud and is ready to call the cops to make a noise complaint, when he hears the undesirable misstep of an off-tune piano key being hit. He realizes at that moment that it's someone actually playing.

He had moved into these apartments a few months ago after he finally started making a regular livable income from his position at the Blouse Barn. While it was an unfortunate name, Wendy had promoted him to the official title of store manager, which came with an increase in his pay and allowed him to escape the motel life. This in turn enabled him to start making some subtle but much needed changes in the merchandise and displays, so he’s able to live with it.

While these apartments aren’t anything like what David was used to in his prior life accommodations, he had to admit they’re pretty cute, and he likes the open layout. He had dived headfirst into curating the decorations until the small studio apartment unmistakably said David Rose through and through.

As he lay in his four-poster bed that he managed to find at a steal of a deal on eBay, he lets the soft melody of the music drift over him. The tenant that moved into the apartment next to him a month ago played around this time every single night (save for one, last week, in which David realized that the playing had become a part of his nightly routine. He had a hard time falling asleep that night).

David hadn’t managed to bump into the resident yet, and aside from the playing, he rarely heard much of anything coming from over there. The playlist usually included a mix of both classical and modern music. About two weeks ago on his way home from work, David had taken a sticky note from his desk at the Blouse Barn and wrote ‘ _Play some Mariah next time_ ’ as a joke, hoping his neighbor had a sense of humor, at least. That night, he heard the unmistakable beginning of _Hero_ floating through the wall. A smile stayed on David’s face all the way until he fell asleep that night.

Which brings him to now. Since then, he’s stuck a plethora of different requests on the neighboring door each night, and without fail, around 10pm his wish is fulfilled. Even on the one night it wasn’t, the following night picked up again with both requests being fulfilled.

Yesterday David hadn’t requested anything as he had been out with Stevie late. As he walks towards his front door, digging his keys out of his bag, he notices a bright pink sticky note taped to his door.

 _Next request?_ Is scribbled in small letters. David tries to hide a smile from no one as he peels it off, looking down the length of the hallway to make sure no one else is out there with him. He reaches into his bag for a pen and scribbles his response, stepping down the hall to stick it to his neighbor’s door. He walks back to his door, unlocks it and steps inside.

After changing out of his work clothes and making himself some spaghetti, he settles in on the couch to watch a movie. An hour into _The Proposal_ , he hears the beginning faint noises of the piano next door. He races to turn the tv off so he can make out the tune better. After a moment to adjust, he can hear the tune of _My Heart Will Go On_ and his face stretches with a warm smile. He’s surprised that his neighbor was able to pull this together so quickly, but the deftness of the tune really makes him think that it’s probably not the first time they’ve played it.

 _I really like the way you play_ , his response had said, _but I’d be REALLY impressed if you could give me some Celine_.

David stands to discard his bowl in the sink and lights a few of the candles around the room, swaying to the soft melody as he goes, humming. It’s beautiful and perfect, the way this person plays. Can you fall in love with someone via their music? Because that’s definitely what’s happening, David thinks. He twirls in the middle of the room and closes his eyes, allowing himself to get lost in the moment. 

There’s so many terrible things in the past year that’s happened to him and his family. Being betrayed by their father’s most trusted advisor, losing all of their money, the true colors of David’s so-called friend’s showing as they all ignored him as soon as he lost his status. It was all painful and too, too much for David to handle. He had slipped into a depression realizing all that this world held for him that was fake. He lost his ability to trust and was just now working to build it back thanks to Stevie who was slowly showing him what a real friend could and should be.

He gently muses over all of this as he continues to dance in his living room. He’s never allowed himself to have such a private moment like this, and it’s freeing; to focus on himself and allow an unguarded moment without the need to put on a show for anyone. In a past life, he always found that he wore an armor to keep himself protected the best he could, and even then, he still found himself looking desperately for love and validation in all the wrong places from all the wrong people.

The soft ensemble of black joggers and white long sleeve shirt move lightly against his skin as he moves back and forth, the socks on his feet allowing him to slide a little on the hardwood floors. He feels like a kid in a way, or how he imagines that kids in normal upbringings must feel.

The song slowly fades out and David remains standing in the middle of the room, eyes closed, the scent of the lavender and sandalwood scented candles he lit warmly filling the room.

The rest of the night is filled with various Celine songs, which continue until David finds himself snugly under his comforter. If he had to guess, he thinks that the piano is situated near the wall that is shared with his bed since he can always hear it best while laying down. Romantic thoughts of the mystery person on the other side of the wall fill his mind as he drifts off.

The next day – Sunday – David wakes up slowly. There are no expectations of him today – no work or favors to fulfill for anyone - so he takes his time. He lays in his bed scrolling on his phone a little before getting up and making himself a parfait for breakfast (well, it’s noon, so technically lunch, but whatever). After eating, he gets dressed and decides to go check his mail. The mail is located downstairs in the small breezeway just following the front entrance of the building. As he walks, he finds himself humming the tune of _My Heart Will Go On_ , still riding the wave of memories and relaxed aura from last night.

When he gets to the breezeway, there’s another guy there too. Though there’s plenty of space for both of them, he has to say an apology as the guy has to step out of the way to allow the door to open. He’s looking through a stack of mail that looks like it hadn’t been checked in a while and is standing right in front of where David needs to be.

“Um, sorry, can I get into the box behind you?” David asks gently. The guys looks up and meets David with expressive, _beautiful_ , eyes.

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” He says, stepping to the side with an apologetic look. David is slightly breathless as he sticks his key in the box labelled 308 and pulls out the 4 envelopes inside, re-locking the box.  
“Thanks,” He says, feeling his face go a little hot as he turns to the door. In an attempt to calm himself down from that interaction, he starts humming the tune again just before stepping inside and continues to do so as he climbs the stairs back to his apartment.

Shortly after closing the door behind him, he hears a small _thunk_ come from the direction of his door. He stares at it in silence for a moment to see if another noise would come, possibly a proper knock, but one never does. He waives it off and goes to the bathroom to indulge himself in a proper, hour long shower.

Around 8, he finds himself on his couch with a pint of ice cream as he watches his third rom com of the evening. He’s particularly in his feels and decides he’s ready to make a new song request for the evening. He scribbles the words _Tina Turner_ on the top of the sticky note pad that’s sitting on his kitchen table and peels it off, turning towards his door. As he opens it, he notices a new pink sticky note on his door.

_416-555-0168 - Please send all official song requests to the number listed_

David can’t help his jaw as it falls open slightly. Either this was going to turn out to be completely innocent and the person was just annoyed with the notes, or he had just been given a number in the smoothest way possible. He isn’t even sure if his neighbor is a guy or girl (not that he cares much) or how old they are.

He slowly steps back into his own apartment and closes the door. He debates whether the anonymity is part of the thrill and if it would be ruined if that went away. Part of him is strongly saying yes, but the other part is very eager to try and know who this person is. He pulls out his phone and paces a few times, considering.

 _So I have a few questions before I can use this for actual requests_ , he types out and sends before he loses his nerve. The message sends over blue, and within 20 or so seconds, the ellipses pop up to show the other person typing back.

 _Didn’t realize I had to be officially interviewed in order to provide entertainment_ , the message comes back, quickly followed by, _but shoot. I’m an open book_.

And well… where does David start?

_Okay, well first, I need to know if you’re some creepy serial killer who lures in their victims by way of beautiful piano playing_

David smiles again as the typing bubble pops up almost immediately.

_But wouldn’t a serial killer deny that? So either way, I think that question is a lose-lose for me.  
But I’m glad you like the playing._

David laughs a little.

_Yes I do. And okay, fair. Next question, are you of the elderly persuasion?_

David laughs at himself even as he sends it.

_I mean, sometimes my back might say so, but the government recognizes me as 31._

Well, okay then. Slightly younger than David then, and with a sense of humor. Definitely not the end of the world. David is trying to think what to say next when another message comes through.

_Hopefully that doesn’t put me out of the running :)_

David raises his eyebrows at the use of an emoticon, but finds it slightly charming.

 _Still technically on the chopping block, but making strides in the right direction_ , he responds.

 _Glad to hear it. I’ll be on the lookout for your official song request of the evening._ '

David wants to respond something witty or flirtatious, but he’s not sure what to say. So instead, he says:

_Tina Turner. Your choice in selection will be the final test._

After hitting send, nothing pops back up in the few seconds following. He imagines the person is working on research, so he lets it be and goes to put his now-melting ice cream back in the freezer.

After about an hour or so, just as David is considering calling it an early night, he suddenly hears the deep, repetitive upbeat tune coming through the walls. He gasps and covers his open-mouthed smile with his hands as the beginning of _The Best_ fills his apartment. He goes over to the wall by his bed to hear it better and finds that he can’t stop smiling. He sits, bobbing his head along with the music until it finishes. He suddenly feels the urge to do something brave and decides he wants to meet whoever this mystery person is. He gets up and heads back to the couch where he abandoned his phone and pulls up the mystery person’s number. Before he can do anything more, a small knock comes at the door, causing him to freeze. He pads carefully over to the door and takes a deep breath before opening it.

He’s met with a beautiful pair of honey brown eyes which makes is heart pound heavily in his ears a few times. In front of him is the guy from the mail room earlier. He’s dressed in a soft looking, deep blue hoodie, grey sweatpants and white socks. David is taken aback by how cozy and downright handsome he looks.

“Uh, hi,” The guy says, cheeks turning a little pink. David hugs his doorframe as he feels his heart flutter a little.

“Hi,” He says lowly, tucking a smile in his cheek.

“I’m, uh, Patrick, your piano playing neighbor,” He says. Patrick. David considers it, and it definitely suits him, causing David to smile a lopsided smile.

“And I’m David, you piano appreciating neighbor,” he responds, tilting his head. Patrick huffs out a laugh and looks towards the ground, hands shoved in his front pocket.

“I uh, so I’m pretty embarrassed to admit it, but I’ve actually known who you are for a few weeks, actually,” He says, the pink tint on his cheeks trailing down his neck a little. David raises his eyebrows in surprise of this information.

“Oh? So serial killer is definitely still on the table then,” He says in a teasing tone, circling his hand in front of him with outstretched fingers. Mirth fills the other man’s face.

“Sounds like it’s very much still on the table,” He laughs, “I saw you at the Blouse Barn a few weeks ago and overheard you talking to someone else about the piano playing, so I figured it had to be you,” he glances up towards David with a shy look and shrugs.

“Well, forgive me, I don’t remember seeing you,” David said, remembering the day but not at all that he had seen Patrick.

“Oh, I definitely panicked and high tailed it out of there,” He says in confession, and David can’t tell if he should be offended. The look he gives must say as much, because Patrick rushes to amend, “I just mean because honestly you’re the most handsome guy I think I’ve ever seen in my life and I didn’t want to ruin the image you had of me, even if it wasn’t of me, specifically,” he finishes. David’s stomach flips and he feels a burst of butterflies. He pulls his lips in between his teeth in an attempt to squash down his smile, which doesn’t work.

“Well, so far the impression still tracks,” David says, crossing his arms shyly. He knew he was unabashedly flirting with the man in his doorway, but he can’t help it. This man has kind eyes with a sturdy build, and has David feeling warm and fuzzy inside.

“Um, so really what I wanted to see was if- if you’d like to come over so I could play for you. In person.” Patrick says, and David can feel the nerves rolling off his shoulders. This soft looking, gorgeous man is asking David is he can play more for him? How does one eloquently say _hell yes_?

“I, um- yeah I could be into that.” David says, trying and failing to be aloof about the situation. Patrick can tell, and smiles, some confidence building back up.

“Well, I just so happen to have something prepared if you have a moment now?” He says, throwing a thumb back over his shoulder towards his apartment. Was it possible for someone to embody a human fireplace? Because David wanted to curl up against this man’s side and drink in his warmth for days, amongst other hot analogies. He feels hot under the collar thinking about it, but wills his body to behave.

“Um, yeah, that sounds good,” David says, trying not to let his excitement shine through too much. There’s been many times in his life where he’s been off-putting for being too much and he’s not wanting that part to come just yet.

Patrick smiles brightly and turns on his heel towards his apartment, David following. He doesn’t lock his door, figuring he’ll only be a moment. Patrick looks back at him with something David can’t quite read as he pushes open his own door. David follows him inside.

The interior of Patrick’s apartment is the same layout as David’s but decorated so differently. David takes in the deeper tones of the room – ones that remind him of idealistic cabins in the mountains on a snowy winter day. Many aspects – such as the coffee table in front of his grey couch – are made of a deep stained wood. On the dark mantle over the fireplace, he sees a few framed pictures. The most notable being one of Patrick with two adults, undoubtedly his parents as he shared the same kind eyes as the woman and the same smile of the man. David finally lands on the piano that looks well loved and is situated – as thought – right up against the wall that backs up to David’s bed on the other side. While David has an opinion that there’s still many opportunities for the aesthetic, he feels like he knows Patrick a little better already.

“So, welcome to my place,” Patrick says. David turns to look at him and finds that he’s been watching him as he looks around the room. Patrick smiles and moves over to the piano and sits on one half of the bench, patting the other side for David to sit down on. David feels his nerves ramping up as he does.

The bench is just big enough that their thighs are pressed up against each other in order to both be fully seated. The warmth of Patrick bleeds through the thin material of David’s joggers and he can’t help the butterflies that tickle his ribcage. Patrick smiles over at him.

“So based on your requests over the last few weeks, I’m getting the impression that you’re a Mariah fan above all else,” Patrick starts, and David throws his head back and groans because he feels so seen. 

“Oh my god you have no idea,” David says, grasping up to hold onto Patrick’s hoodie sleeve, unable to formulate any other response. He notices what he’s doing and releases quickly with a sorry under his breath.

“No, don’t be,” He says, low, into the silence. David swallows as he admires the hue of Patrick’s eyes in the ambient light of his apartment.

Patrick smiles and coughs to try and get through the moment and focus on what he was originally here to do, raising his hands to the keys of the piano. He hits the first chord, and to David’s immense surprise, starts to sing also. 

And, oh, _fuck_ , he could _sing_.

_“Treated me kind,_

_Sweet destiny,_

_Carried me through desperation,_

_To the one that was waiting for me,_

_It took so long,_

_Still I believed,_

_Somehow the one that I needed,_

_Would find me eventually”_

He glances over to David who is resting both hands on his cheeks with his jaw hanging slack and fumbles enough on the next notes that he stops all together.

“What?” Patrick asks, looking him up and down quickly. David can feel the weight of the moment practically vibrating in the space between them as he doesn’t respond. He drops his hands slowly and closes his mouth as he feels his gaze turn into something… more. Fond. It mirrors what’s currently happening on Patricks face as he tilts his head ever so slightly. David’s breath hitches as he sees Patrick’s eyes flint down towards his mouth briefly. Like a magnet, he feels himself being pulled in until he feels Patrick’s soft lips against his.

Fireworks explode in David’s chest as he brings a hand up to rest on the side of Patrick’s face. He feels simultaneously like he’s breathing for the first time and gasping for air. 

The kiss is relatively short as far as kisses go, but David has never felt so _much_ from one. It takes a moment for his brain to come back online as his eyes flutter open. He takes in Patrick’s soft, kiss bruised expression and he’s not sure what to say.

“Can I take you on a date?” Patrick asks into the quiet, a gentle conviction in his tone. 

"My god, first you serenade me and then you ask me on a date. I think you just walked out of my favorite romance movie," David says. Patrick blushes a little deeper, "but yes. Definitely. Please." He says, leaning in to steal another kiss.

David Rose has never felt luckier in his life.


End file.
